


Pack is Family, Family is Pack

by dreamerjules (jelaine3)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Teen Wolf Reverse Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelaine3/pseuds/dreamerjules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolf!Stiles returns to Beacon Hills to look for his mother's killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack is Family, Family is Pack

It had been ten years since Stiles Stilinski had left Beacon Hills. He and his mom had left the day after the funeral and he hadn't been back since.

So of course when he returned, it would have to be for another goddamned funeral.

Stiles thought it was safe to say he abso-fucking-lutely hated Beacon Hills, California.

The engine on his jeep ticked over as it cooled down, sitting in of the Beacon County Sheriff's Department. The building looked exactly the same, right down to the crack in the mortar from a small earthquake that happened the year Stiles was born. His dad had always joked it was the station's way of making sure there was enough room for Stiles. Those were definitely not tears sliding down his cheeks. Stilinski men didn't cry…. Ah, hell, he had no idea what Stilinski men did.

He dragged a rough hand over his face to make sure there were no signs of the not tears on his face. He just didn't want to have to explain that they weren't tears if anyone bothered to ask. Which they wouldn't because he wasn't.

The lack of change was re-enforced as he opened the door. The smell of gun oil and leather holsters and the overriding stench of body odor assaulted his sensitive nose. Did a profound lack of personal hygiene result in criminal behavior or was a profound lack of personal hygiene a result of criminal behavior? Inquiring minds want to know.

"I'm Stiles Stilinski. I'm here to see Sheriff Argent."

The deputy on desk duty must have been at the end of his shift because he didn't even react to the name Stilinski, just called the Sheriff to come up front.

Sheriff Chris Argent must have been waiting for Stiles to arrive because he was in the doorway waving Stiles back.

"I really am sorry for your loss, Stiles. Your mother was a good woman."

"For a werewolf."

"For anyone. Look, Stiles, we both know what we are – hunter and werewolf, so we'll never be best friends, but I respected your mother and I'm sorry she's dead, so do us both a favor and direct the anger to the bastard who really deserves it."

"Are you sure it wasn't a hunter?"

"Are you sure it was? We both know who's responsible for this and it wasn't a hunter."

Stiles went still, containing all the emotions that wanted to rage free, containing the wolf that wanted a death in return for the death of his mother.

Chris gave him all the time he needed. He’d been older when he’d lost his mother and the circumstances had been vastly different, but the loss had still been devastating.

"Do you have any evidence that it was Michael McCall? I mean, he was the reason she came back here. She was dead within 48 hours of arriving. It's being reported as an animal attack in the press. Circumstantial evidence that wouldn't make it to court, but we both know it'll never get that far."

"Not much more. There were some fingerprints we haven't got back yet and forensics takes longer than you see on TV. I think the fingerprints will come back to McCall, but matching the wolf's fur isn't something the lab would ever think of. As sheriff, a confession would make me feel better. As a hunter, I'm taking the first shot I get." 

"You're never going to get that shot. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"I'm okay with that. Just be aware there are others in my family who won't see it that way."

"I'm shocked. No. Really. This is my shocked face. Any idea where Michael is? Melissa said she hadn't seen him since she called Mom."

"No. He hasn't shown up for work in over a week which isn't unusual. I don't think there's a minimum wage job in this town Michael hasn't held. No friends to speak of. Edgar, the bartender at the Dive, is as close…."

"The Dive? The local dive is actually called the Dive? A little on the nose, isn't it?"

"It's either truth in advertising or a lack of imagination. Anyway, Edgar probably knows him better than anyone other than Melissa and he has no idea."

"Could he be covering for Michael?"

"Not with how much money Michael owes him. He's almost pissed enough to admit he's Michael's bookie. In fact, if we were looking for Michael's killer, Edgar would be at the top of my list."

"Too bad."

"Yeah. You going to be staying with Scott and Melissa?"

"That's the plan. We'll see how it goes." Stiles stood. "I should probably head over there now. Melissa's hanging in pretty good for losing her best friend and her husband at the same time."

"And how are you 'hanging in'?"

"I'm hanging. The how? I don't think I'll know until that son of a bitch Michael is in the ground in pieces."

Stiles stopped. It wasn't until just now that he'd made the connection that the only way for this to be set right – right as it could ever be which is not very right at all – is for Scott's dad – his best friend's dad – to die, preferably at Stiles' hand. Stiles really hoped Melissa would be the only one to lose a best friend over this.

"You okay, son?"

"No."

He reached out for Chris's hand, a firm handshake his last action before heading out to his jeep. The guy who takes a thousand words to say nothing reduced to just one.

~*~*~*

Stiles took his time driving to the McCall residence. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them. He did. A lot. They were his only family now that Mom was gone. It was just… seeing them would make it too real.

Not that it didn't see real now. It was real. Stiles knew it was real. But there are degrees of real and he know, more completely and fully than he has ever known anything in his life, that he hasn't gotten to the 180 or 360 or whatever the fuck it is when reality is complete. If he had it his way, he'd never get there but damned if he can figure out how to stop. He imagined it must be like falling from the top of a building or maybe even an airplane without a parachute. You know the landing's coming, but oh, what you wouldn't give to fly instead of land.

His phone buzzed again. He didn't bother looking. It had be to Scott or Melissa and he can't worry them anymore than he already has. He may not be the alpha even though is mother is gone – and the thought of that rat bastard being alpha in her stead, well, he can feel the change starting – he has to care for them the way she would. They are his pack, his responsibility and he will not let them down. Will not let her down even, maybe especially, if she isn't here to see him.

Even after ten years, Stiles homes in on the McCall's place like a pigeon and he should think of a better comparison than a flying rat.

The front door opened, light spilling onto the porch, before Stiles had even turned off the jeep. Melissa waited, as though she knew he needed a few more seconds to himself, yet letting him know they were there when he was ready.

When he made it to the door, Melissa pulled him into a tight hug. Stiles just collapsed into her arms and held on just as tight. He wanted to stay there forever. He knew he would never hug his mom again. Not tight like this. Not a quick squeeze as he ambled off to his room. Knew Melissa was the closest thing to a parent he had left. Knew that if he stayed there any longer, he'd start crying and probably never stop.

He stepped back and Melissa reluctantly let him go.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry. How are you holding up?"

"Holding. Not sure if it's up or down or sideways, but I'm holding. How are you doing?"

"I'm…. I'm furious. I'm furious with Michael, with myself, with Chris Argent, with God if he exists."

"Why? Michael I get, but you, Chris? That's crazy."

"She was only here because I called…."

"You only called because Michael was being even more of an asshole than usual. You didn't have a choice."

"Don't talk about my father that way."

Scott stood at the top of the stairs, his face cold and hard. He didn't look like Stiles' best friend. He didn't look like Melissa's son. Stiles wasn't sure what he looked like, but he knew he didn't like it. More importantly, he knew he couldn't trust Scott and with that, another piece of his heart broke off and floated away.

"Your father killed my mother. I think him being called an asshole is the least of your worries."

"He didn't do that. Don't lie about him like that." Scott jumped down the stairs and slammed Stiles against the door frame, his left forearm pressing deep into Stiles' throat. Stiles dug his claws into Scott's side, tearing a howl of pain from Scott.

"Stop it! Stop it right now! Scott Michael McCall, let him go! NOW!"

Scott eased off slightly and Stiles took his claws out of Scott's side, the metallic tang of blood peppering the air for a moment before the gouges started to heal.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Scott? Stiles isn't even in the house a full minute before you're attacking him. He just lost his mother and despite what you want to believe, you father did kill her. Maybe he didn't mean to, I don't know, but I'm done caring. You are the only good thing that man ever did and you are the only thing I care about where he's concerned."

"Bullshit. If you cared about me, you…."

The crack of Melissa's hand against Scott's face surprised all three of them.

"Scott, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…."

Disbelief, anger, hurt crowded Scott's face and for a split-second, a heartbeat, even with the foreign emotions in his eyes, he looked like the friend and the son they loved.

And then he was gone, the door swinging open wide.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Oh, god, what have I done?"

Minutes passed, Stiles and Melissa frozen, unable to process Scott's behavior.

A shrill ring tone broke the silence and Melissa jumped. She grabbed her purse off the hall table and dug through it frantically, hoping to find it before it went to voice mail.

"Hello?"

Not really listening to Melissa's side of the conversation, Stiles was suddenly glad he hadn't taken his bag out of the jeep. He obviously couldn't stay here, not if Scott's behavior continued. It was a little funny. It hadn't occurred to him that Scott would be so protective of his dad. Stiles knew Scot hadn't completely outgrown his hero worship, but he also knew Scott was aware Michael wasn't a great guy. Hell, Michael wasn't even a good guy. Michael was a bad guy and had been long before Mom, had given him the Bite. He didn't know a lot about it, but he knew she regretted it. It's apparently a Stilinski trait to be constitutionally incapable of saying no to your best friend. 

"Stiles."

He looked at Melisa, a little surprised to realize she was no longer on the phone.

"That was the hospital. Alice, one of the other nurses, has to go to Portland for a family emergency. They need me to come in. Will you be okay here?"

They both knew wanting something didn't make it true.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to stay. I'll just get a room at the motel. It'll be fine," said Stiles, once again providing comfort he didn't know how to accept himself.

It's obvious that Melissa wants to say no, to reassure him he's welcome and wanted, that there's a place for him in her home. It's equally obvious that she's relieved.

"If you really think that's best. I want you to stay."

"I know, but it's Scott's home too. Tie breaker always goes to keeping the peace. It's not like it's that far away. I mean, this is Beacon Hills after all. You can make it from one city limit to the other in ten minutes going the speed limit. With traffic."

"I know, it's just… you need your family now, Stiles."

She was family. Scott was family. But he was still alone in the most basic way imaginable. It really didn't help that his family didn't get that.

"Which is why the universe invented cell phones. Seriously. Small town. Cell phone. Privacy's a thing of the past Before my time even," said Stiles, smiling, reassuring.

"If you're sure. Okay. You're sure. I believe you. Just take care, alright. There's no telling what Michael's capable of anymore."

Stiles nodded, not sure of what would come flying out of he opened his mouth. He'd never liked Michael, regardless of how much Melissa and Scott loved him, but he would not add to Melissa's pain.

A final, quicker hug, admonitions to call once he got checked in and Stiles was back in the jeep, pulling smoothly out of the driveway.

He thought about just driving around aimlessly again, but the specter of Melissa's worried face made sure he headed straight for the McLaren Motel. Maybe if he was lucky, Old Lady McLaren would give him an extra discount. There wasn't a syllable of gossip that didn't reach her ears, the gorier the better, and he'd bet money he didn't have she had a police scanner running 24/7.

Bracing himself for the onslaught of sympathy he knew he was going to face, he slid out of the jeep. His keys managed to get from his hand to the floorboard in the way that keys do and muttering a soft curse, he leaned over to pick them up.

Which meant that the shot that rang out caught him in the bicep instead of the heart as intended.

~*~*~*

Derek Hale was running late to work. It wasn't his fault. His stupid sister Laura decided to go grocery shopping at the wrong time on the wrong day. There was a schedule for a reason and not just so Derek wouldn't be late for work. Of course, if his car wasn't in the shop for repairs, it wouldn't matter. Peter and Laura kept trying to convince him to get a new car and he was tempted, but the Camaro had been Dad's and it had survived the fire. He couldn't just let it go and yeah, the symbolism wasn't lost on him.

He was doing better than he thought he should be. Not nearly as well as Peter and Laura thought he should be, but truth be told, they weren't doing all that great either. The grief was mostly a dull ache for all of them, but it never took much to stoke the flames. It was impossible for Derek to think of grief in any other way than fire. He'd even planned on becoming a fire fighter the first year or so after the fire, but Laura had convinced him becoming a vet the way he'd always wanted would do more to honor the family.

Derek smiled fondly. His sister was the very definition of stubborn. He honestly didn't know where he and Peter would be if not for her. She was so much like their mother. That thought never hurt though. He was just so grateful he hadn't lost everything.

His cell phone was on the passenger seat and he wondered if he should call Dr. Deaton and let him know he was running late. Derek really didn't like talking on the phone while he was driving even to actual passengers, but he didn't want Dr. Deaton to worry.

Blue-green eyes slid over to the phone for a fraction of a second, then back to the road. An old blue jeep was suddenly just there on the road. It was moving slowly and definitely not in a straight line, so there wasn't any danger of an accident despite Derek's surprise.

Just as "where the hell did that come from" fully formed in his mind, the jeep made a sharp jerk to the right, going off the road and into one of the tall pine trees.

Derek slammed on his brakes and jerked the parking brake on, leaving the driver's door open as he ran to the jeep.

The driver looked like he was barely old enough to have his license. He was also pale and sweaty and there was blood all along his left side.

"Shit. Okay. My phone's in the car. I'll call 911 and we'll get you to the hospital. You'll be fine. It'll be okay."

"No. No hospital. Deaton. Deaton'll help."

"Deaton's a vet. You need a hospital."

The kid's right hand shot out, gripping Derek's left arm with surprising strength. Whisky colored eyes bore into Derek's with an intensity that was about more than the pain he was in.

"No hospital. They can't help. Deaton can. Please."

And that must have taken the last of the kid's strength because he was unconscious before he finished saying please.

Derek didn't hesitate. He unbuckled the kid's seat belt and pulled him carefully out of the jeep. Laying him flat, he quickly checked for injuries, finding only the bullet wound. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and stripped off his t-shirt. He ripped the shirt and tied one strip around the kid's arm as a tourniquet and the another around the wound itself.

He picked the stranger up and carried him to the car. Laura would kill him for getting blood all over her leather seats, but it wouldn't be the first time and she wouldn't want to let someone die to keep her car clean.

He still wanted to take the kid to the hospital, but he'd been so insistent and the vet clinic was closer. He supposed, if nothing else, Deaton could stabilize him and then they could call the EMTs.

He looked over that the kid as he started the car. Maybe.

~*~*~*

Derek pulled around to the back of the clinic, getting the passenger side as close to the delivery area as he could.

"Alan!"

He carried the wounded young man into the back examination room, laying him on the cold metal table.

"Alan!"

"What? What's going on? Derek?"

Alan Deaton hurried into the room, shutting the door behind him as he saw a person on the table.

"Derek, what's going on?"

"I was coming into work and there was a jeep and a tree and he was bleeding and he didn't want to go to the hospital, but he said you'd help. So help him. Please."

Derek couldn't say why or when, but making sure the young man survived was very important to him. At least as important as keeping Laura and Peter safe. He really didn't like that truth be told.

"Get cleaned up and put on a shirt. I'll see what I can do."

With one last worried look at the kid, Derek went to the bathroom, grabbing an old t-shirt out of his locker as he went. The dried blood took more scrubbing to clean off than he'd thought it would. He kind of hoped that the blood was only on the leather seats. It would be hard to get out, but easier than the carpet. Oh, dammit. The seatbelt. Christ. How much would it cost to replace the seatbelt?

Pulling his shirt over his head, he entered the examination room and stopped short. Deaton had removed the kid's shirt and hello definition, but that wasn't what caused the stoppage. Deaton was burning some sort of flower, which while odd wasn't completely out there. Derek's mom had been a big fan of holistic medicine, so he knew some plants worked just as well and sometimes better than modern medicine. How burning a flower could help a gunshot wound was not a question Derek had an answer to though.

Once the flower had burned itself out, Deaton scooped the ashes into his hand and proceeded to place them into the wound itself.

Horrified, Derek couldn't help himself, asking "Alan?" as he stepped up to the table.

"It's all right, Derek. He was right. I'm the only one who could help him. He'll be fine now."

The whisky brown eyes fluttered open, not really focusing on much of anything, but settling on Derek's face nevertheless.

"Am I in heaven? 'Cause you must be an angel. Did it hurt when you fell?" The kid giggled, coughed and slid back into unconsciousness.

Derek looked at the kid's arm, reaching out without even realizing it.

The wound was gone.

There was still blood on his arm and along his side, but Derek couldn't tell where it had come from.

But there had been a hole in this kid's arm.

Derek had seen it, bandaged it. He'd watched Deaton put flower ashes inside it, but….

It wasn't there any more

"Come on, Derek. We have a lot to talk about and Stiles needs to rest," said Deaton, heading out to the break room.

"What the hell is a Stiles?"

~*~*~*

"Bullshit. Werewolves don't exist. Why do you think I'd believe something that ridiculous?"

"I think you'll believe the truth and the truth is Stiles is a werewolf. He was born that way."

"Alan…."

"You know the woman who was killed the other day? The one who was cut in half? That was his mother. She was cut in half because it's one of the only ways to ensure a werewolf stays dead." 

"Stays dead? Christ, Alan, do you know how that sounds?"

"Like I'm insane. Yes, Derek, I know how it sounds. It doesn't make it any less true."

Alan's calm confidence began to work its way into way into Derek's head, into his heart, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, it could be true. Werewolves are real.

Or maybe Alan just forgot to take his anti-psychotic medication this morning.

Both options seemed equally likely at the moment.

"He giving you the "werewolves are real" speech? I keep telling him he needs to work up something like the "one girl in all the world" speech from Buffy, but he refuses. I even wrote him one a few years back, but alas, all my hard work was for naught. I'm Stiles, by the way. Thanks."

The kid – Stiles – looked good, healthy and well rested, except for a deep sadness around his eyes. Understandable if he'd just lost his mother.

"If I'm not mistaken, that usually did much better with a visual aid."

"So it did." Stiles grinned and raised his hand. His fingernails were abnormally long and thick and pointed. With Stiles' hand raised in front of his face, it was impossible to miss the glowing golden eyes, the excess facial that had come from nowhere, the fangs crowding that agile mouth.

Derek scrabbled back, forgetting he was in a rolling chair and nearly falling off when the chair hit the wall.

"Holy shit!"

"That's the usual reaction," said Stiles, the fangs distorting the words. "I had hoped for something different, but looks like you are just a pretty face."

"Now, wait a minute…."

"Now, boys, you're both pretty, but we have more pressing concerns to deal with. Like who shot Stiles."

Stiles had been preening under the earlier compliment even if it hadn't been sincere, but the unnecessary reminder was like a needle in a balloon.

"Since you had the right variety of wolfs bane to fix me up, I'm voting for Kate Argent."

"Not Gerard?"

"That bastard hasn't done his own dirty work since Chris hit puberty, so yeah, Kate. Unless he's training up Allison behind Chris's back, in which case, senility has set in."

Derek's confusion got the better of him. "What does Sheriff Argent's family have to do with this? Are they werewolves too?"

Stiles raised his hands in surrender and gestured towards Deaton.

"Thank you for your confidence, Stiles. The Argents are a family of werewolf hunters. There is a code they follow. The code states that they don't kill children and they don't kill any werewolf who hasn't killed. Well, they're supposed to follow it. There are more hunters than the Argents, but they tend to give Beacon Hills a wide berth. The werewolf population here is very small and Chris has a good relationship with them. The others either respect what Chris is doing or they resent the hell out of it. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground there."

"So Kate shot Stiles just because he's a werewolf? How did she even know? If it even was her. I know Kate. Yeah, she's a straight up bitch, but she's not a killer."

"Bullshit!"

"Stiles, there was never any proof. You know if there had been, Chris would have…."

"Done nothing. What could he have done against Gerard? Between Gerard and Sheriff Lansing, Kate could have shot my dad at high noon on Main Street with the entire population of Beacon Hill in attendance and there still would have been no evidence, no proof, no witnesses."

Stiles' voice sounded inhuman as he growled out the last few words, tears spilling out of his glowing golden eyes. 

Derek wanted to move. He wanted to pull that beautiful boy close and hold him until he understood he was no longer alone.

He wanted to know there the hell that thought came from.

Deaton was holding Stiles, comforting him and Derek was surprised to find he didn't like that at all.

Okay, seriously. What the fuck was Derek's brain doing? Surely finding out werewolves were real hadn't completely addled it, had it? Maybe it had. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Are vampires real?"

Now his mouth was working without permission. Well, at least his brain won't be lonely.

Stiles and Deaton had identical "are you crazy" looks as they turned to stare at him.

"Well, I don't know, do I? Ten minutes ago, I thought werewolves were just imaginary characters in movies and bad teen fiction."

"That's a longer discussion for another day," said Deaton. "We've decided who shot Stiles, but I'd still like to know what happened. Where were you? Are Scott and Melissa all right? How did you get away?"

Taking a deep breath, Stiles sat at the break table and started talking.

"Scott and Melissa are fine. Or at least Melissa is. She's at the hospital. God only knows where Scott is. He's taking his asshole, murdering father's side, so I went to stay at McLaren's. Getting out of the jeep, I dropped my keys and as I was reaching for them, I got shot. Got back in and drove off. I was trying to get to you once I realized it was a wolfs bane bullet. Luckily, I crossed paths with Floyd over there and made it in time."

"My name's Derek, not Floyd."

"I know."

Something clicked in Derek's overworked brain. "Wait. Scott and Melissa? As in Scott and Melissa McCall? As in Melissa McCall who works with my sister at the hospital? They're, she's a werewolf?"

"Yes. You have a problem with that?" Stiles was less than happy with the inquiry, if the frost in his voice and the glow in his eyes was any indication.

"What? No… I, I don't know, alright? Melissa's nice and she's Laura's friend, but she's a werewolf. What if…?" 

"Look, I know you need some time to process this whole thing, but I'd appreciate it if you at least attempted to not be a complete and total dick about it while you do. Yes, Melissa and Scott McCall are werewolves. They are still the same people you knew yesterday, before you found out. The only thing's that different is that you have a fact that you didn't know before."

"I do get that. Mostly. It's just a little much to hit the ground running with, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"Stiles, do you have any place else you can stay? I'd offer, but…."

"But if somebody's hunting me, it's just put you in danger too. I won't do that."

"You can stay with me." Good to know Derek's brain was still operating without instructions.

"So I can put you in danger instead. Perfect."

"Nobody knows we've met. There's no way to connect us."

"Except through Deaton. They know I know your boss. That's a connection, dumbass."

"I know that, but what else are you going to do? And Sheriff Argent is a good man and a good sheriff. He'll protect you."

"He's right, Stiles. You know you can trust Chris and I trust Derek. Even Kate will think twice before trying anything else."

"Yeah, it's that second thought I'm worried about."

"Stiles, you don't have a lot of options. The Hales are very well respected. Kate and Gerard would be crossing more than Chris if they hurt any of them."

Stiles wavered. He needed to stay. He needed to keep the pack safe. Could he do that if he left? No. He didn't want to think it, much less believe it, but he knew Melissa and Scott were in more danger form Michael than the Argents. Maybe if he could find Michael quickly, maybe he could keep Derek safe too. Derek and Deaton. Melissa. Scott.

"Fine, but if there's even a hint of trouble, I figure something else out."

"Deal."

~*~*~*

Scott ran and ran and ran. His heart felt like it was going to hammer out of his chest. He kept running. Away. Towards. He didn't know and it made no difference.

Something – someone – solid slammed into him at full force, knocking him over. He heard his ribs break, felt his left shoulder pop out of its socket.

Scott and his attacker rolled around the forest floor, grappling for purchase. Scott had fully transformed. Or at least as fully as a beta could transform. He clawed and bit, but he never connected.

Of course, no one would expect a half-grown beta – even a born beta – to hold his own in a fight against a full-grown alpha. Especially not when that alpha had long ago left sanity in the dust.

Seeing a small opportunity, Scott managed one good hit and ran, stopping about twenty feet away.

"Dad!"

The alpha raised his head, sniffing the air. The scent was familiar, his own, but not, completely. Pack, but so much more at the same time.

Slowly, Michael's features slid back towards human, but his eyes still retained a hint of red and madness.

"Scott?"

Scott inched forward, submission in his every look and gesture. A half formed thought whispered that had it been anyone but his father, he'd be terrified, convinced he was going to die any second. But it was his father. Surely that meant he was safe.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you?"

Michael didn't answer, didn't move, just inhaled, claws still extended.

"Dad?"

There was the suggestion of recognition in Michael's eyes, but that was all.

"Michael! You came here looking for Scott for a reason. Do what you came here for!"

Gerard Argent was standing behind Michael about fifty feet, a little out of breathe, but cool and confident for all that.

"Do it, Michael!"

Michael looked at Gerard, the wolf sliding to the fore, growling quietly in the back of his throat, not aggressive, but not submissive either. Turning back to Scott, he bounded over to him, knocking him over.

Scott lay still on his back, baring his neck to his father's fangs. Michael was his alpha as well as his father. Scott's life was his do with as he wished, but Scott really hoped he would be allowed to continue living. 

"You are mine. You belong to me and you will obey me in all things."

"I will, yes, I will. Anything you want."

"Good boy." Michael lowered his muzzle and closed his teeth around Scott's throat.

~*~*~*

"Where do you think you're going?"

Stiles found it hard to hold on to his control. The funeral was tomorrow. Yesterday had been spent making arrangements. They'd never talked about it, but he couldn't imagine – didn't want to imagine her anywhere but beside his dad. If he couldn't have her alive in LA, this was where she belonged.

But that meant he hadn't been able to spend any real time tracking Michael down. Derek had gone with him to the Dive after the funeral home. Edgar was everything Chris said. Including ignorant of Michael's whereabouts. Stiles had even offered to pay whatever Michael owed him and it hadn't made any difference. Of course, the amount was far beyond what Stiles had on him. Hell, it was even more than Stiles had in savings and his mom had made sure his savings account was healthy. Edgar did give them one suggestion as they were leaving.

"I thought I'd check out that house Edgar mentioned. The burned out one in the woods."

Stiles didn't need werewolf senses to tell him Derek had major problems with that idea. Derek had been taking his role as Stiles' protector very seriously, but this had nothing to do with that.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. Have you talked to Scott?"

Low blow. Bastard.

"I haven't, but Melissa says he's still not acting like himself. She swears he'll be at the service tomorrow, but I don't want him there is he's just going to be the asshole he was the other day. I think Melissa's glad for the extra shifts she's had to pick up. Keeps her out of the house and away from Scott. I mean, how much of an asshole are you being if you own mother doesn't want to be anywhere near you?"

"Laura's happy about the extra money. You want some coffee?"

"No. You want to tell me what the deal is with the burned out house in the woods?"

"No."

Stalemate. That was why Stiles had had such a hard time learning chess. Learning the pieces and the moves was easy, but for the longest time every game with his dad ended with stalemate. Neither one of them could figure it out, but they kept playing and eventually his dad won. Stiles hadn't had the opportunity to beat him. But he didn't have the time or the patience to wait this out with Derek. It might be the move of a five year old, but sometimes when things weren't going your way, the only move was to upend the board.

"Fine. Don't tell me. If I'm not back by 3:00 pm, let Deaton know."

Stiles grabbed his jacket and keys off the back of the couch and body checked Derek when he tried to stop him.

"No. You don't get to fucking do that. You can't tell me nothing and expect me to just accept it. Burned out house in the woods sounds like a good hiding place to me. Hey, if you really want to help, chat up Kate Argent for a few hours. You might not get a date, but we can both be sure I won't get shot."

Stiles shook off the hand holding on to his arm and headed out to the jeep, anger and glorious purpose radiated out in waves with every step he took.

"You'll be trespassing."

He barely heard Derek over the blood pounding in his ears, but the stopped short when the words finally registered.

"I'm planning on killing a man and it's trespassing that concerns you. Awesome priorities there, Floyd."

Stiles thought Derek was actually going to break something this time as hard as he was clenching his jaw.

They stared at each other. It seemed like Derek had reached Stiles' level of frustration and Stiles was damned if he could figure out why.

Minutes passed before the fight drained out of both of them.

Stiles shook his head and turned back towards the jeep.

"It's my house."

~*~*~*

The Argent McMansion was not what Chris would have chosen for his home if it had been solely up to him, but it hadn't been. He and Victoria had known Gerard would be moving in at some point. Far too soon for Chris's liking, but no one ever asked him what he wanted. Not when it came to the important things anyway.

But there was one area he'd put his foot down and by God everyone else was going to fall in line or they would really learn what the phrase "hell on earth" really meant.

There was no way his daughter was going to be a hunter. Not if it meant being like Kate and Gerard. Family loyalty ran deep in the Argent clan and sometimes Chris wondered if that was the only thing keeping him in contact with them. It had sure as hell stopped being love a long time back.

"Hi, Dad!"

"Hi, Mr. Argent!"

Allison and her friend Lydia Martin bounced into the kitchen. It felt like bouncing to Chris even if it wasn't literal bouncing. It was nice to see Allison smiling.

"Hi, girls. Lydia, are you staying for dinner?"

She almost never did and certainly not when Gerard was there, no matter how good the food was.

"Actually, neither of us will be here for dinner. We're going out with Jackson and Danny. There's a new club opening in Hamblen and we thought we'd check it out."

Lydia was leaning on the counter, showing her cleavage off to its best advantage. Chris ignored her. She'd been flirting with every man she came across since she was old enough to know what flirting was. He had an idea of what her game was, but he wasn't interested in playing.

"Make sure your cell phone is charged, the car has a full tank of gas and get home at a reasonable hour. Text me when you leave the club."

"What? No lecture on the evils of alcohol? No statistics on drunk drivers? Not even an explicit 'be careful out there'? Who are you and what have you done with my father?" She bit into a Granny Smith apple, her eyes smiling while her mouth was busy.

Chris smiled back. "I am simply bowing to the inevitability of your advancing age. If your mom and I haven't taught you right by now, it's a little too late to start from scratch. Just, if something does happen, stay in the car and call 911. No matter what it is. I would lock you and Lydia in your room and throw away the key if I thought it would do any good, but it won't"

"That's very enlightened of you, Mr. Argent," said Lydia.

"What's my very enlightened of my husband?"

Victoria Argent came in and stood very close to her husband. She knew there was nothing to worry about. She'd never known Chris to even more than casually glance at another woman and Lydia Martin was still very much a girl. But it never hurt to let Chris know she cared.

"Lydia and I are going out tonight and Dad was not threatening to lock us in my room."

"My, that is very enlightened indeed."

"Ha, ha." Chris leaned down and kissed his wife.

"Ugh, let's get out of here."

"By, Mr. Argent, Mrs. Argent."

"I thought they'd never leave," said Victoria.

Chris pulled her close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He was so grateful for her. They had gone through a rough patch a few years back when Gerard had wanted to start training Allison to hunt. Chris had been against it. Victoria had been for it. She hadn't understood how toxic Gerard was; how much damage that man could do to their baby. They had argued for weeks. He'd finally resorted to explaining exactly why he had run for sheriff in in the wake of Deputy Stilinski's murder. He'd shown her the evidence that would have convicted Kate for his death, that would have implicated his father.

She'd been horrified he'd kept quiet. Victoria had fully embraced the idea of hunting when he'd told her about it, but she had also fully embraced the idea of the code along with the hunt. John Stilinski had never hurt anyone and Anna had served on PTO committees with her. There was no reason to target the Stilinski's. No reason except John's intention to run for sheriff.

Chris had taken a copy of the evidence to Sheriff Lansing. He had wanted to see justice done even if it meant sending his father and sister to prison. Sheriff Lansing disregarded it out of hand. Refused to even consider John's death was anything but unsolvable. Lansing wasn't a hunter himself, but he was one of Gerard's cronies.

Chris had had no choice but to run for sheriff himself.

"Are you going to the funeral tomorrow," asked Victoria.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"If you want. It's grave side, just Stiles and the McCalls I'd imagine."

"And you."

"And me."

"Have you heard from Gerard? I haven't seen him in days. His bed's being slept in, but that's all I've seen."

"Day before yesterday I think. He wants Kate to come and visit for his birthday. Gave me the whole 'you never know when it may be the last' spiel. I hate to admit it, but he has a point. Not that he's dying, but no one ever really knows how long they have."

"Anna's death is really bothering you, isn't it?"  
"Yeah, it is. Michael killed her. There's no question about that. But something's just not right about the whole situation. Michael's an asshole and god knows he can be violent, but even at his worst he never physically hurt Melissa, so why hurt Anna? He has the means. He got the opportunity, but what's his motive?"

"He's not the most mentally stable person in the county. Maybe that's all there is to it."

"Maybe, but I just can't shake the feeling something more is going on."

"Don't worry. You'll figure it out. You always do."

~*~*~*

Derek and Stiles were back in the house, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Derek really wasn't good with words as Stiles had learned, but when you had Derek's story to tell, it did make sense.

"It was eight years ago. My sixteenth birthday. Didn't care about a party. Didn't care about presents. Nothing mattered as much as passing my driving test, you know."

Stiles nodded. It had meant independence, but more importantly for Stiles, it meant he could do more to help his mom.

"My dad was supposed to take me, but at the last minute something came up at work. Well, that's not true, but that's what he told me. He was putting the finishing touches on his Camaro. It was my present. I worshipped that car as a little boy. It was just, it was my dad, you know. So anyway, he and my mom were planning this huge celebration slash surprise party. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Peter volunteered to take me and Laura just tagged along. They were supposed to keep me out until everything was ready at home, coordinate things. Let them know how the test went just in case. I passed. Couldn't wait to get home and show off."

Derek's smile didn't come close to his eyes. 

"Laura went on about how great it was going to be having a chauffeur. Hell, I was so full of myself, I thought it was the best idea I ever heard. Peter called home, but nobody answered. He didn't think anything of it at first. Lots of people, lots of noise, just couldn't get to the phone in time, whatever. We drove – I drove – around for a while. Peter kept calling and still didn't get an answer and he was starting to get worried and he made me let him drive. I didn't want to, but he insisted. Laura had already picked up on how worried Peter was, but I just wanted to show off."

Derek stopped talking. Stiles just waited. He'd met Laura and Peter, but hadn't heard of any other Hales. He had gotten the impression there weren't any others, but there could be lots of reasons for that.

Derek took a deep breath and exhaled. Stiles wondered if he had ever told anyone this story before. He didn't think so.

"There were fire trucks and ambulances and people. God, there were so many people just walking around. It didn't make any sense. I didn't understand. Laura started screaming and I saw smoke, steam, rising form the walls of my house, but the walls weren't there anymore. Not completely. Apparently it was a combination of old wiring going bad and a slow gas leak. To be honest, I still don't understand. I just know my family's gone, except for Laura and Peter."

Stiles felt for the guy. He really did, but he didn't see why that had to keep him from looking for Michael. But even he understood he couldn't just flat out say that. What did he say though? He knew better than anyone how useless words could be.

"I'm sorry, man. That's rough."

"Thanks."

Silence stretched out between them while they looked anywhere but at each other.

"I still need to look for Michael. I'm sorry it's your house, but I still need to go out there. I'll be respectful. You don't have to come with."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you have to find Michael? Why can't you just let Sheriff Argent do his job?"

"Did you miss the whole werewolf part of the story? He can't go to jail like a normal person."

"But why do you have to be the one to hunt him down? You've already been shot."

"That had nothing to do with Michael."

"You don't think Michael had anything to do with it. You really don't know that it was Kate."

"Yes, I do."

"Cause you're psychic in addition to being a werewolf."

"You don't have to be psychic when you know your history. I know mine."

Stiles had to get out of there. He'd wasted too much time already. Why was Michael hiding anyway? Chris couldn't do anything to him legally. Of course, Chris wasn't just the sheriff and there was a lot a hunter could do to a wolf who'd killed. Okay. So that was why, but why had never been as important as where. He headed toward the door again.

"Where are you going now?"

"Just outside. You do have a backyard, don't you. Cause it looks like there's one out there. I just want some fresh air," said Stiles tiredly.

"That's not all you want."

"No, it's not, but that's all I'm getting right now, isn't it."

Derek nodded and they headed outside. Stiles inhaled deeply and lifted his face to drink in the sunshine.

After a few minutes, in silent agreement they sat down on the top step of the deck stairs leading down to the backyard itself. They sat close enough that they were almost touching. That had happened several times yesterday. The silence, the almost touching. Stiles had noticed. He appreciated it. Any other time, he'd do something about it. Now it would just be a distraction and he didn't need that.

"If you wait till after the service tomorrow, I'll go with you to the house."

Derek was still looking straight ahead. Stiles looked over at him. A profile gives nothing away, but he could see the tension in Derek's jaw and neck. Even without that he knew this wasn't something that Derek wanted to do. So why offer? Maybe he just wanted to make sure the house was still abandoned and safe from insane werewolves. Maybe he didn't want Stiles to have to do this on his own, which would be really nice. Maybe Stiles should just ask him.

Nah. Wild speculation was way more fun than stark truth/reality.

"You sure? That's really not necessary."

"Yeah, I am and it is."

Derek turned to face Stiles and Stiles added another option to the list. Maybe it wasn't just the house that Derek wanted to keep safe.

~*~*~*

The campfire light danced across Scott's and Michael's faces. Gerard had finally left not long ago.

Scott was happy about that. He didn't like Gerard Argent. He like playing the kindly, slightly befuddled grandfather and Scott couldn't believe anyone fell for it. He knew Allison didn't buy it for a second and he was so proud of her for that.

But he also knew Allison knew nothing about what her grandfather really was; that her whole family was involved in hunting werewolves; that her not-boyfriend was a werewolf. Scott wanted to tell her. He hoped their love was stronger than the shock. He knew his love for her would last through anything, but finding out that not only do werewolves exist, your not-boyfriend was one and, oh yeah, your whole family hunted werewolves down and killed them was a lot to deal with.

He remembered his conversation with Chris about it.

"You want to tell her what?"

"I want to tell Allison I'm a werewolf. Sir."

"Are you aware she doesn't even know they exist or that her family hunts them?"

"Yes, sir. I am aware of that. That's why I wanted to talk to you before saying anything to her."

"Scott, you're a good kid. I even think you might be almost good enough for my daughter and I don't think anyone is good enough for Allison whatever their … family history. I never wanted her to be a part of this life. It's a futile wish, but one I hold dear. Scott, I trust you'll keep this conversation just between us."

"Of course, sir."

"Telling Allison will upset a very delicate balance. Gerard no longer has any desire to follow the code. I don't know the origins of the curse, or whatever it is that makes you what you are, but I do believe it's beyond your control."

Scott leaned forward in his chair, ready to protest.

Chris held up a hand. "I mean, you can't control the fact that you are a werewolf, not that you can't control your wolf. If I didn't know you could control your wolf, you would never have gotten anywhere near my daughter."

Scott leaned back, nodding.

"Actually, I admire that about you and your mother, the Stilinskis. It must be so easy to just give in to the wolf and yet you don't let it control you. That can't be said for everyone. I'd like to give you permission to tell her. You do make her happy and I will deny ever saying that. I don't know how Gerard would react, but it wouldn't be good. My father is not a subtle man. On the bright side, he can't live forever."

At the time, Scott had found it an odd thing to say. Death was inevitable, but to talk about your father's death like it was something to look forward to, that was just wrong.

Watching Gerard play on his dad's illness the past two days had given him a better understanding of the sentiment.

He didn't think his dad had ever been told what was wrong with him. Not that he would even admit there was something wrong with him. Everyone else was the problem. 

"Dad? Dad? Why don't we go home? It'll be warm there. Mom would fix you some of that chicken soup you like."

It was Campbell's chicken and rice, so Scott would be happy to open a can if it meant getting his dad away from Gerard.

Scott may not be the smartest guy in town, but he didn't need to be a genius to know that his dad had been using his newfound alpha abilities to control him and that Gerard had been controlling his dad. He didn't know what game Gerard was playing, but it wasn't going to end well for any of the werewolves in Beacon Hills.

"Dad?" He touched his dad on the arm. Michael turned to look at him, though Scott doubted whether his dad really saw him.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way."

"I know, Dad. I'm sure if you just told Chris what happened…."

Michael pushed Scott hard and he narrowly missed falling into the fire.

"You're just like everyone else. Don't you realize Chris is hunting me? He'll kill me as soon as he sees me."

"He's only hunting you because he thinks you killed Anna."

"Chris is hunting me because he hates me, because I have the wolf he wants. He was hunting me long before I killed Anna. He's the monster. I'm not."

Any hope Scott had nursed that maybe Michael wasn't a killer evaporated. He'd known it was the only explanation for Michael's new alpha ability, but he'd been unable to bring himself to admit it.

He hoped Stiles would forgive him for what he'd said the other night. He hoped he'd be alive to apologize.

~*~*~*

Stiles had gotten more sleep the night before than he'd thought he would. Any at all is more when you'd expected none.

He was glad he'd found the Hales. They understood what he'd needed better than he did. 

He'd never given much thought to being an only child, but Laura had firmly established herself as big sister. He was happy he didn't have Derek's history with her. She was merciless in her teasing of both of them. Peter had tried to feed him everything in the kitchen while asking every question he could think of about werewolves and the supernatural. Derek had thrown in a few of his own and Stiles found he didn't mind being their very own supernatural wiki.

Laura hadn't asked any questions because she'd known about Melissa and Scott. That little fact had not gone over well with Derek and Peter. Derek because he couldn't believe Laura had kept something that big from him. Peter because, apparently, he'd never met a conspiracy theory he didn't embrace like a long lost lover. Though Stiles had the feeling Peter liked the absurdity factor more than any real belief.

"Think you could eat some breakfast?" asked Derek.

"No, but I did make some toast earlier. Look, I appreciate the thought, but you guys don't have to come to the service. Melissa and Scott will be there. I think Scott will be there. I'd like Scott to be there. I don't remember a time when we weren't friends. Mom used to swear my word was Scott. Or no depending on her mood when she told the story."

"You did notice Laura adopting you, right?"

"Kinda hard to miss," said Stiles, smiling.

"There's no way we're going to let you go through this alone. And, yeah, I know. You have Melissa and Scott and I'm glad, but you have me now too. Us. You have us now too."

Derek ducked his head while color rose in his cheeks. Stiles gently kicked at his foot until he looked up again. Stiles looked him straight in the eye and said, "I know and I'm glad abut that too. That doesn't mean that I'm sorry about invading your normal world."

"I'm not."

They were still standing and smiling at each other when Peter walked in. Smirking was really not a good look on him.

On the plus side, his entrance gave them something else to look at when Laura walked in. If Peter's smirk was annoying, Stiles really didn't want to know what Laura's looked like. If he got really curious, he could always ask Derek.

"Stiles, shotgun. Derek, driver's side back seat."

Stiles touched Peter's arm before he got in the SUV. "Is she always this bossy?"

"Usually she just glares. I think she's only using words for your benefit."

"I heard that!"

"Am I wrong?"

"Just get in."

"Please get in. Don't leave me alone in here with her," Derek pleaded from the back seat.

"You can walk, you know."

"Getting in," chimed Stiles and Peter.

~*~*~*

Chris poured his second cup of coffee before heading out to the office. It was his favorite part of his morning ritual. Victoria and Allison were off to work and school respectively and he had the house to himself. An island of quiet before the maelstrom of the sheriff's department.

"Morning, son."

And a good day goes bad in the space of a heartbeat.

"Gerard."

"Got enough left for your old man?"

"Plenty in the pot. Help yourself. I'm heading out."

Chris put his mostly full cup in the sink, taking care to stay out of Gerard's way. He was almost to the door when Gerard spoke.

"You going to the bitch's funeral?"

Chris stopped, fists clenched at his sides, glad he was too far away from Gerard to hit him. He doubted his ability to stop if he ever started.

He didn't turn around as he answered, "I am going to Anna Stilinski's funeral."

"Give my regards to her son."

Gerard was a predator plain and simple. No wolf had anything on him, were or otherwise. Chris had had a front row seat to the manipulations that turned his baby sister into a cold-blooded murderer. He thanked God and any and every other deity that may or may not be exist that his mother been around as long as she had as a balance to Gerard's brand of crazy.

"Or maybe I'll just pay my respects in person. Let the kid know I'm still keeping a close watch on Beacon Hills. Wouldn't want him getting any ideas about territory."

"It's not like he has any reason to stay after the funeral. His life's in LA now."

"His pack is still here though. You know how they get about things like that."

"Not really that different than a normal human about their family."

He knew his father well enough to know he was up to something. Gerard's interest in Anna Stilinski's funeral – her son – was disturbing. As was the coincidence that Gerard hadn't been around as much since her death. But of course he hadn't had anything to do with it. That was all on Michael McCall and if there was one thing Chris could take comfort in where his father was concerned, it was that Gerard would rather die than have any dealings with a werewolf. Especially Michael McCall.

"Normal? Do you even know what normal is? Of course you don't. Normal doesn't exist. It's a fairy tale people tell to make themselves feel better for not being extraordinary."

"Do you ever listen to yourself? If you're what passes for extraordinary, I have no problem with fairy tales. Do yourself a favor and don't show up the service. It's my duty and my pleasure to keep the peace in this town. Are we clear?"

"Crystal. Wouldn't want my dog allergy to kick in anyway. Keep in mind that you keep the peace in this town at the voter's pleasure. Who knows when that might change? Tell Victoria I'll be back late. No reason to wait dinner."

Gerard smiled his predator's smile and went upstairs. He was apparently done with the kind befuddled grandfather act at least with Chris.

He willed away the gnawing, falling feeling in his stomach. Surely Gerard was just planning some way of bringing Kate back to town permanently. Allison loved her aunt and she didn't know she needed to be careful around Kate. Kate the true believer. Kate, Gerard's perfect soldier. Kate the Killer.

Allison would never be like Kate.

~*~*~*

The service had been … nice. It helped that Pastor Kershaw had known them when they lived here before. She'd even done his dad's service. Stiles idly wondered if she would do his.

Scott had shown up, but he'd kept his distance. Nodding at each other across his mother's casket wasn't what Stiles wanted – none of this was what Stiles wanted – but it was better than his welcome home.

Melissa had insisted everyone come back to her house for lunch. She was trying too hard, but Laura had come to her rescue. To hear Laura tell it, she must have been in a plane crash in the Andes to be that hungry. Even Chris had agreed to stop by for a few minutes. Stiles could see that Scott wanted to be there, but he didn't think Scott knew what he was going to do. Whatever was going on with him hadn't let up at all as far as Stiles could tell.

Stiles had only stayed long enough to be polite before making his excuses. No matter how important this ritual of goodbye was, avenging her death took higher priority.

The jeep bounced down the pot-holed road as Stiles followed Derek's directions. He really would have preferred it if Derek had just given him the directions and stayed at Melissa's. The feeling – the conviction – that he was heading to a resolution wouldn't let him go. One more life changing event and he could move on.

He was sick and tired of his life changing.

"Do you really have to kill him?" Derek asked quietly from the passenger seat.

Stiles couldn't pick up on any judgment or scorn in Derek's voice. Just honest curiosity and concern.

"Yes. It's not revenge. Well, not completely. It's just. Werewolves, by definition, aren't human and it's unrealistic to expect us to be bound by human law. Not in the really big things like life and death, freedom and confinement. On top of that, Michael is unbalanced and by unbalanced I mean his brain is a bag full of cats. Mom never should have bitten him, but he'd been in a bad car accident and she couldn't leave Melissa alone with Scott. Not that that wouldn't have been the right call in the long run, but I guess in the moment it's hard to say no if you can help."

"So Michael isn't a born wolf like you and Scott and Melissa and he was human when Scott was born."

"Yeah. I can't really explain it very well, it's all genes and recessive traits and dominant traits, but basically it boils down to a roll of the genetic dice if one parent is a wolf and the other isn't. If both parents are wolves, it's more likely the kid will be too, but it's not unheard of for a kid to be completely human."

"You're going to want to slow down a little. The turn off is coming up pretty soon on the right. So, your dad was a wolf too?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't born a wolf either. Mom told me he wanted the bite because he wanted to be with her so much he was willing to risk death to eliminate anything that could separate them."

"Turn right here. He could have died from the bite?"

"The bite either turns you or it kills you. Personally, I think she was half hoping Michael would die instead of turn."

Stiles made the right and he thought he could see a rooftop in the distance. Closer and closer.

"Why didn't Melissa bite Michael if she wanted him to be a wolf?"

"Doesn't work that way. Only an alpha wolf's bite can change someone. A bite from any other wolf is a full-on death sentence."

Apparently Derek had nothing to say after that and they drove the rest of the way to the house in silence.

Stiles parked the jeep a few yards away from the house. There were no obvious signs anyone was out there beside them, but visual was only so good when it came to looking for someone. Stiles reached for the door handle when Derek found his voice.

"How does a wolf become an alpha? I mean, you mom was an alpha, but what made her the alpha?"

"Now? You bring this up now? Man, you might want to look into improving your timing."

"What's wrong with my timing?"

"What's right with it? Do you really think moments away from tracking my mother's killer – at your burned out childhood home, by the way – is the right…. That's it, isn't it? Have you even been out here since then?"

"Yes. Peter, Laura and I come out every year on my parent's anniversary. Mom loved roses and Dad bought her a new bush every year on their anniversary. We've kept it up. The rose garden is wild and overgrown except for where the most recent bush is. It would have driven her crazy, but she would have loved it too."

"Mom became an alpha when she started taking care of Melissa. Usually someone becomes an alpha when they kill an alpha or it gets passed down in larger packs, like a royal family, but the new alpha doesn't have to be family. But sometimes, if omegas and betas form a pack, someone steps up and viola, alpha. Mom and Melissa really needed each other, a lot, when they were younger. An alpha's power varies on the size of the pack. Larger the pack, the more powerful it is, so most alphas are in it for the power. Mom just like taking care of people."

The silence that fell between them was neither comfortable or uncomfortable. It simply was and they were content with it. They made no move to get out of the jeep either. That next step would happen when it was supposed to and they would deal with it then.  
Then came quickly when Stiles saw movement in the second story window.

"Son of a bitch!"

Stiles was out of the jeep in a flash. He had just enough presence of mind to actually open the door instead of just barreling through it. He hoped Derek appreciated his thoughtfulness.

Derek had the good sense to stay in the jeep. He wanted to help, but honestly, what could he do? There was only one thing he could think of and so he pulled up Deaton's phone number and his thumb hovered over the send button. The sheriff might be more help in a fight, but Deaton could make him better if something bad happened.

"I am so sorry about this."

Derek jumped at the sound of Scott's voice, but before he could do anything, Scott's right fist shot out, nailing him in the jaw. The sharp motion caused his thumb to hit the send button. The call might have been more helpful if Derek had remained conscious.

~*~*~*

Stiles cursed Michael McCall's existence with every step he took. He knew these woods around Derek's house and Stiles didn't, so he was leading Stiles a merry chase. He was playing Stiles, wearing him down, just waiting for his moment to strike. Hell, he was probably leading Stiles straight into a trap. Even as he acknowledged that likelihood, he continued to follow Michael. What else was there for him to do?

He gradually gained ground on Michael – a little faster here, a short jump there, an angle through the trees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a clearing in the woods. He thought he saw people there, but he shoved that knowledge – suspicion – to the side. Michael was so close. Just three more steps.

Two.

One.

He launched himself at Michael, braced for the impact of his body into Michael's.

They roll for several feet. Michael snarling, trying to bite, but unable to get purchase. Stiles just concentrated on anticipating the stop, when he could finally, finally, give full expression of his grief on the flesh of the one responsible.

A gunshot rang out, just managing to cut in on Stiles' consciousness. He and Michael came to that complete stop, but neither tried to move the altercation to the next level.

Gerard Argent stands in the clearing, 9mm pistol raised high in the air. Scott is there as well, standing between Gerard and Derek who's lying on the ground, unconscious.

Stiles' grief gives way to an almost all consuming need to protect Derek, but only almost because anger at Scott wars for prominence in his heart.

"What the hell, Scott? You're involved with this? Did you help him? What did you do, distract her so dear old dad could get the jump on her or were you right there with him as he ripped her apart? Does Melissa know? Is she part of it too?"

"No! Mom would never. Neither would I. You know that!"

"I don't know what I know anymore, Scott. How am I supposed to know anything with you standing next to Gerard Argent for god's sake?"

The man in question lowered the gun till it was aimed at Derek's head. He smiled at Stiles, far more a predator than any werewolf Stiles knew and causing him to wonder how good a grip on reality Argent had. He was starting to suspect Michael would pass a psych eval before Argent.

"Your mother should have done a better job teaching you to respect your elders."

"She did. She made sure I only respected the people who'd earned it."

Gerard made a show of cocking the gun he held.

"That smart mouth of yours is going to get your boyfriend dead sooner than I'd planned."

Scott's head snapped toward Argent. "You never said anything about killing him. You said he'd be fine except for a few bruises."

Delight lit up Gerard's face as he shifted the gun. "You are even dumber than I thought. No one is leaving this wood alive except me."

Michael growled low in his throat while Stiles shifted further into his beta form.

"How do you plan to get away with that? Four bodies won't be easy to explain away even if your son is the sheriff."

"Like he's good for anything. Hell, he's only sheriff because of some fool notion of protecting Beacon Hills from me. Me! I've been keeping this town safe from the likes of you since before he was born. Since before I was born. Argents kill werewolves and we have for centuries and he thinks he can walk away, keep my granddaughter from fulfilling her destiny. He'll learn, just like you will."

"Hard to learn anything if you're dead," said Stiles. "And Derek isn't a wolf. He's human and the Hales have been here at least as long as the Argents. Killing him will not make you any friends."  
"His family will be grateful I've saved him from spending the rest of his life as a werewolf. Everyone knows you're planning on killing Michael and that will make you alpha. It's a reasonable conclusion that you'd want to tie your boyfriend to you and the bite is an unbreakable tie."

"I've known the guy three days. I'd barely call him a friend."

Stiles was close enough to Michael to feel him tensing in preparation to attack. While he still wanted Michael dead, he realized two things that took precedence. One, Argent was the biggest threat in Beacon Hills and two, there may have been more to his mother's death than Michael's crazy.

"Grief makes people do strange things. Though since you're not a person, I wonder what it'll do to you. Dogs feel grief when their masters die. Do wolves?"

Stiles smiled a very unpleasant smile. "So, what's the plan, G. I got the whole killing us part of it, but what does that get you. There has to be more to it than three dead werewolves. If that was all you wanted, Kate nearly got me when I got to town. Michael and Scott would be even easier I'd think. So what's the what, old man?"

"I'm not some Bond villain. I explain myself to no one."

"That's true. You suck too much to be a Bond villain. There is a certain level of competence required."

Derek wasn't moving much, but Stiles could tell from his breathing and heart rate that he was conscious. He just hoped Derek had the good sense not to draw Gerard's attention. He couldn't imagine it would go well for Derek and if they wanted to get out of here alive, anything Gerard didn't know about could be turned to their advantage.

"Thank you for confirming my decision to put you down first."

"Who's second then? Scott or Michael? I think you'd want to save Derek for last. He's just an afterthought after all. But do you really think Scott or Michael will let you kill the other? That's just not going to happen."

"Oh, but it is. Michael does what I tell him and Scott does what Michael tells him. Control and power. That's what it's all about. I have both. I have all the control and power in this situation. Here, I'll just show you."

Everyone seemed to move at once. Gerard aimed the gun at Stiles, ready to pull the trigger. Scott reached out and grabbed Gerard's gun arm, causing the shot to go wide. There was a yelp of pain. Derek rolled to the side putting himself as far from the action as he could, but managing to throw leaves and dirt in Argent's direction for a diversion. Stiles went low and tackled Gerard around the waist. Michael went high, heading straight for the throat.

Once Gerard was down, Stiles and Scott looked for openings to inflict some damage of their own, but Michael was just a dervish and they retreated, always making sure they were between Derek and the fight.

It didn't take long for the air to grow heavy with the metallic taste and smell of blood. Gerard was dead almost the second Michael attacked, but he kept ripping and tearing into the old man's flesh.

"Michael! Stop!"

Michael did, looking up at Stiles. For all the horror of Michael's physical appearance – covered in blood, halfway shifted into his alpha form – his eyes reflected only Michael. All that he was. All that he could have been. Not a good man, but farther from a bad one than Stiles would have been willing to admit even a minute before.

Tears burned Stiles' eyes. They may have had a common enemy in Gerard, but that didn't change anything between them.

Whatever the old man's role in his mother's death, and Stiles was willing to believe he wasn't an innocent bystander, Michael had still been the one to end his mom's life. Even if Stiles could forgive him - which he couldn't, not now, maybe not ever, Stiles just wasn't that good of a person – he couldn't let a wolf get away with killing anyone. Not a human and certainly not another wolf.

He thought about letting Chris take care of it. Surely he had as much right to end Michael's life now as Stiles did. But that's not what his mother would have done. It was the alpha's responsibility to control the pack, not a hunter's.

"Scott, get Derek out of here and call Chris and Deaton. I'll be there in a minute."

"Stiles…."

"Just go already," screamed Stiles, tears burning even hotter as they slid down his face. "I don't know if I can do this with you here and don't say I don't have to do this. You know better."

"That wasn't what I was going to say. Just… wait for Chris. You don't need to do this alone."

"Scott."

Michael spoke quietly, lucidly. He stood a short distance away from Gerard's body, barely recognizable as such.

"Dad?"

"This is between me and Stiles. It's wolf business. Just please know I love you more than anything. You and your mother. Tell her I'm sorry for everything I put her through. That I put you through. You two are the best thing that ever happened to me. I was just too selfish to do what was best for you. Too weak. Too scared. Too much of a coward. Try to remember the good and forget the bad. There was some good, wasn't there? I can't tell anymore."

Scott took a step forward. "Dad."

Michael shook his head and Scott stopped.

"Yeah, Dad. There was some good. There was a lot of good. Love you."

Scott turned, grabbed Derek's arm roughly and pulled him away from the clearing. Derek started to resist, to pull away, to say something, but he let it go as Stiles shook his head and Scott pulled harder.

The woods remained silent as they walked towards the Hale house. Even the sniffling sounds Scott made were strangely muted given how close they were to each other.

There was a sound a short time later, but Derek didn't recognize it. Scott just gripped his arm tighter and walked faster.

~*~*~*

With some expert juggling, and more playing the "grieving son" card than he should have had to, Stiles had managed an extra week in Beacon Hills. Unfortunately, that week was up and LA beckoned and no amount of fast talking would get him any more time off. Stiles knew this for a fact. He had deployed all his considerable verbal skills and been shut down completely.

He was surprised to find how very much he wanted to stay. A lot had changed since he arrived and Stiles thought it was safe to say he abso-fucking-lutely loved Beacon Hills, California. He'd made plans to finish his degree as quickly as possible and move back and Chris was working on a job for him, though he hadn't bothered to share any details. Typical Argent.

Deaton had answered Derek's call from the house and had picked up that something was wrong. He'd called Chris and together they traced the phone's GPS. They had been working out a search pattern when Scott and Derek had made it back to the house. 

Scott had told them about Gerard and Michael. Chris took the news well. If asked by the right person, he would have admitted Gerard's involvement with Michael and with Anna's death was more upsetting than his death.

The cover story had Gerard and Michel falling prey to the same mountain that had killed Anna Stilinski. In the end, it was ruled a simple hunting accident.

The irony was not lost on anyone who knew the whole story, which now included Allison. Chris had told her everything when he'd broke the news of Gerard's death to her and Victoria. The Argent's history, Gerard's rejection of the code, his manipulations of Kate and her murder of John Stilinski, that Scott and his mother were werewolves. He'd left nothing out.

Allison had reacted better than Chris had feared. Allison had picked up that there was more going on in her family than anyone had told her, but werewolves and werewolf hunters just weren't on the list of possibilities. She'd had a harder time with Kate's actions than with anything else which he had expected. What he hadn't expected was her desire to learn more about the family history and hunting. He wasn't sure what was going to happen between her and Scott.

Scott was noticeably more mature since that day in the woods. He was giving Allison space to determine how she felt about dating a werewolf, though only after letting her know that he would always love her and her decision wouldn't effect that. He started working at Deaton's clinic in addition to his job as an orderly at Beacon Hill Memorial. He wanted to decide if he preferred working with people or animals when it came to his career.

Scott and Derek has spent a lot more time hugging their loved ones since that day too. That had resulted in a couple of Hale/McCall family meetings trying to figure out what was up. Possession was given real considered, but ultimately it was decided they were just happy to be alive and happy they hadn't lost more than they had.

Peter had asked Melissa out and she'd said yes. The date had gone well and everyone was cautiously optimistic.  
Chris had found some journals that Gerard had hidden away. He had been diagnosed with cancer and had decided becoming a werewolf was a better treatment plan than chemo. Since Anna Stilinski would have laughed in his face, he'd played on Michael McCall's illness and insecurities believing he would be more willing than Anna after he became alpha. He'd planned on killing Stiles when he got to town and in fact it had been Gerard who had shot him and not Kate. Stiles had received that news with ill grace. He really hated being wrong about Kate.

Scott and Derek monopolized Stiles' time, together and separately. Scott and Stiles had talked constantly for days after the woods. Melissa swore they carried on conversations in their sleep. Stiles had divided his time between the McCalls and the Hales. He didn't want to let them out of his sight any more than they did.

Stiles and Derek did a lot of talking too and Laura declared it must be love if Derek actually talked. Both of them turned the most adorable shade of pink every time she said it which only meant she said it as often as possible.

It was early days yet, but privately they each thought she might be right. Hoped she might be right.

Which of course she was. Laura Hale was never wrong.


End file.
